Just Another Los Angeles Night
by Settiai
Summary: Ghosts, gunmen, half demons, mobsters... it's just a typical night in Los Angeles.


Title: Just Another Los Angeles Night

Author: Settiai

Disclaimer: "Angel" and other related characters are all properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other related corporations. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the show, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned show and characters.

Rating: PG-13

Explanation: This is my story for the CyA (Version 3.0) Ficathon on LiveJournal, and it was written for cornerofmadness.

Summary: Ghosts, gunmen, half-demons, mobsters… it's just a typical night in Los Angeles.

Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.

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As someone began pounding on his door for the third time that night, Doyle reached over and turned the volume down on his CD player. "Stupid teenagers," he muttered. "Couldn't they find something better to do with their Friday nights than daring each other to bother their neighbors?"

Shaking his head, he made his way through his ramshackle apartment. "I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny," he sang softly, his CD barely audible over the knocking. "I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny."

He trailed off as he stepped in front of the door, but he couldn't help but smile slightly as he listened to the CD sing along without him. "I'm coming already," he called out as he began undoing the locks. "You can stop breaking down my door."

The smile on Doyle's face disappeared in an instant as he found himself staring directly into the business end of a handgun. "This isn't my night," he said with a sigh.

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Doyle bit back a moan as his hand unconsciously reached up to touch his blood-soaked shirt. Even though the wound on his side had stopped bleeding a good half-hour earlier, the cloth still felt wet and sticky to his touch. Shaking his head, he leaned against the doorframe for a moment and took several deep breaths.

After a few seconds, he clumsily fumbled for the doorknob. His hands didn't want to cooperate though, and Doyle felt a jolt of surprise shoot through him as his vision began to blur. He struggled to stay on his feet as a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he weakly hit the door a few times with his fist. "Cordelia, it's me," he called out, coughing slightly as he spoke.

For what seemed like ages, there wasn't a sound on the other side of the door. There was finally the sound of movement on the other side, though, and it slowly opened as Cordelia peered out. Her gaze moved over the hallway for a second before settling on Doyle, and she rolled her eyes as she began undoing the locks. "Do you know what time it is?" she grumbled. "Why are yo--"

Cordelia trailed off as she opened the door all the way, and her eyes widened in shock. Without saying another word, she hurried forward and grabbed Doyle's arms as his legs finally crumpled beneath him. Her gaze flickered down to the red that stained his shirt, and her face paled considerably.

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"Dennis, bring me some water and a towel," Cordelia called out frantically as she dragged her unconscious friend into the apartment.

Her breathing was coming out in short gasps as she gently dropped Doyle onto the couch. Biting her lip, she quickly knelt down and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Please be okay," she whispered.

A bowl of water with a towel in it suddenly floated down beside her, and Cordelia allowed a brief smile to appear on her face. "Thanks," she said as she grabbed the towel and began wiping the drying blood from Doyle's skin.

Relief flooded through her as she saw that the wound didn't appear to be extremely serious, but her brow furrowed slightly at the same time. "This is from a bullet," she muttered, her gaze flying up to focus on Doyle's face. "What the hell have you gotten involved with now?"

He didn't even stir.

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Kate glanced around the shabby apartment, her eyes moving back to the bloodstains on the floor in front of the door. "Anyone see what happened?" she asked, turning her attention toward one of the uniformed officers standing nearby.

The man shook his head. "Several of the neighbors heard a gunshot, but nobody saw a thing."

"Of course not," Kate muttered. "We're probably lucky that someone even bothered to report the gunshot in the first place."

She started to say something else, but she instead paused and cocked her head. A puzzled look appeared on her face as she glanced around. "Does anyone else hear music?"

Another one of the uniformed officers gestured toward a decrepit-looking CD player that was sitting on the floor. "They must have been listening to it when… whatever it was happened," he said. "No one wanted to touch it in case we needed to dust for prints."

Shaking her head, Kate turned back towards the other policeman. "Any idea who lives here?"

He quickly looked down at his notepad. "Someone named Doyle," he replied. "Apparently he works with a PI named Angel."

Kate blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."

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"It's about time you got here," Cordelia hissed as Angel hurried into the apartment. "He keeps muttering about the Beacon and the Quintessa, and I think he's having a nightmare or something."

She trailed off for a second. "I can't get him to wake up," she said softly, suddenly looking lost and scared.

Angel gave her a sympathetic smile as he hurried toward the couch. "What happened to him?" he asked worriedly.

Cordelia hesitated for a moment. "It looks… like he was grazed by a bullet."

Angel spun his head toward her. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"I could be wrong," she said hurriedly. "I mean, it's not like I'm an expert on what bullet wounds look like or anything, but--"

She trailed off as it became obvious that Angel wasn't listening to her anymore. He was kneeling beside Doyle, staring down at the white bandages she had put on the half-demon's side. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Angel muttered, his voice so low that Cordelia could barely hear him.

For a moment or two, there wasn't a sound in the room. Then Cordelia sighed and dropped down into a chair that sat near the couch. "Where's Wesley?" she asked tiredly.

"I told him to stay at the office," Angel replied distractedly. "We were trying to find some information on the demon that attacked that hospital, and I thought it would be best if he stayed and worked on that."

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "You didn't tell him that Doyle was hurt, did you?" she asked accusingly.

"Um." Angel had the sense to at least appear sheepish. "Maybe I did?"

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia settled back in her chair. "You do realize that they're friends now, right?"

At that, Angel shot her an incredulous look. "Okay, so they're not acting like two-year-olds whenever they're in the same room," she relented. "That counts for something though."

Angel merely shook his head and opened his mouth to reply… only to be cut short as Doyle let out a startled cry and shot upward into a sitting position.

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"For the last time, where's Angel?" Kate asked irritably.

Wesley shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure," he stammered. "Cordelia called a little while ago, and he went running out of the building. He told me that it was an emergency, but I should stay here and search for more information on the demon that at--"

He trailed off as Kate held up her hand for a moment. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that," she muttered as she brought her other hand up to massage her temples.

"I'm sorry, detective," Wesley said as he reached for one of the books he had been studying. "I'm afraid that I don't know anything though."

"Fine, fine… I believe you." She rolled her eyes slightly. "I'm assuming that you don't know anything the gunshots over at Doyle's apartment either?"

Wesley's hand froze in midair. "Gunshots?" he repeated.

Kate nodded and leaned back against the wall. "There was some blood on the floor," she said casually. "It looked a little darker than what you normally see… not entirely human, if you get my meaning."

"I get your meaning," Wesley replied weakly. He paused for a second, though, before staring at her. "How long have you known about that?"

"Long enough," she replied dryly. "I'm pretty sure the blood was Doyle's. Any idea where he might be? I've heard some interesting stories tonight, and I'd really like to find out if any of them are even remotely close to the truth."

Wesley nodded and a thoughtful expression appeared on his face. "Try Cordelia's apartment," he said after a moment or two. Then he reached for the phone.

Kate nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped before she had even taken two steps. "Who are you calling?"

When he merely raised an eyebrow in her direction, Kate allowed the briefest of smiles to appear on her face. "Stupid question," she admitted.

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"Wesley's mad," Cordelia announced as she hung up the phone. "He thinks that you should have told him about Doyle getting shot."

Doyle chuckled weakly as a guilty expression appeared on Angel's face. "Nice to know he cares."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "He says that Kate's on her way over. Apparently someone reported gunshots coming from your apartment," she said. "Will you at least tell us if it was a human or a demon before she gets here? I'd like to know what her reaction will be."

"It's really not--"

"Doyle," Angel said warningly.

"I mean it," Doyle replied coldly. "It's nothing for you guys to get involve--"

Cordelia cut in, a ticked-off expression on her face. "Allen. Francis. Doyle."

"--ed with," Doyle finished, sighing in defeat even as he spoke. "He was human."

"Keep talking," she said, sitting down on the arm of the chair as she spoke.

Doyle glanced over at Angel, and he sighed when the vampire merely raised an eyebrow. "Might as well wait for the detective," he said. "Want to call Wesley and tell him to drop by too? He'd probably feel left out if everyone else got to hear about my sordid affairs while he was stuck back at the office."

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It took Kate a good five seconds to get over the fact that the door to Cordelia's apartment had seemingly opened by itself, and it probably would have taken longer if she hadn't had to stop an attempted homicide.

"I don't care if he just got shot," Cordelia fumed. "He doesn't have to be such a complete and total as--"

"I get the picture," Kate cut in. "But I still can't let you strangle him."

"At least not in front of her," Angel said, earning a glare from Kate.

"I'm really not in the mood for this," Kate said coldly. "The only reason I'm here is to get some kind of statement from Doyle so that I can tell my superiors that nothing's wrong."

She turned her gaze toward Doyle. "I really don't care what excuse you give me," she said tiredly. "Just make it believable."

"I was cleaning my gun and accidentally pulled the trigger?" Doyle suggested from where he lay. He carefully ignored the glare that Cordelia was shooting in his direction.

"Do you even own a gun?" Kate asked suspiciously.

"Not that I've seen," Angel said helpfully.

Kate let out a sigh. "Was I talking to you?" she asked without even glancing at him. Then she raised an eyebrow, as if she were asking Doyle why he hadn't answered her yet.

"No," Doyle admitted. "I don't own one."

"Which is why he's going to tell us what really happened," Cordelia said sweetly. "Right, Doyle?"

Kate reluctantly sat down in one of the empty chairs. "Will someone tell me something?"

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"You do realize that they're listening through the door, right?" Kate asked.

Doyle grimaced slightly as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Yeah," he replied, "but it's the principle of the matter."

"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "Now, can you tell me what happened at your apartment? I need some kind of excuse to give the brass, and I'm pretty sure that 'the victim was shot by a demon' won't cut it."

Doyle flinched. "It wasn't a demon," he said softly.

"Was it a human?" she asked.

A thoughtful expression appeared on Doyle's face. "I've wondered myself a few times…"

Kate unconsciously reached up to rub her temples. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like whatever it is you're about to tell me?" she asked dryly.

Doyle shrugged, but there was a hint of guilt in his eyes. "It was one of Don Caruso's men."

"Don Caruso," Kate repeated, disbelief written all over her face. "Someone from the mob shot you?"

Something shattered in Cordelia's room, followed by the sound of muffled curses. Doyle glanced at the room for just an instant, his face paling as several of Cordelia's words made it clearly through the wood. Kate merely leaned back in her chair.

"Money?" she finally asked.

Doyle glanced back at her for a few seconds. Then he nodded.

Kate brought her hand up to rub her temples once again. "Why couldn't it have just been a demon?" she muttered with a groan.


End file.
